III. Coffee Expert

“Here you go.”

I stare at his biceps. They flex as he opens the creamer and I am utterly mesmerised. Gosh, I am fantasising about the coffee guy, who is probably a decade younger than me, and I feel like a predator.

“Thanks,” I say, grabbing my coffee and hoping he didn’t catch me checking him out.

This is getting out of hand. I need a new hobby. One where I get to meet men, like bachata. Scratch that, I have two left feet. I doubt any man would find my Toe Crusher endearing. Back to Bubble it is then. I wonder if my date has seen my cancellation and whether I can still unsend the message.

I pull out my phone, about to do just that when I faceplant a person.

My hot coffee sloshes around the reusable cup but I keep my hand steady enough that only a little of it splashes out and doesn’t ruin anyone’s clothes. It helps that I’ve had a lot of practice.

“Impressive,” a male voice says. I peer up and promptly wonder if my life has turned into a clichéd romcom. I’ve always been more of a True Crime than When Harry Met Sally type of Netflix watcher, but even I know this situation.

Girl spills coffee on guy. They fall in love, have two point five kids and live happily ever after.

Except you didn’t spill your coffee on him.

A pity, considering I live just across the street and my ex’s Nirvana T-shirt is still lying around somewhere in my closet, all ready to be offered up.

This man is handsome, and even underneath the winter pullover, I can tell he’s really fit. I can’t place his age. He could be around my age or younger. There’s a way he holds himself that’s both confident and relaxed. He’s the kind of guy I’d have drooled over when I was younger. Also the kind of guy I’d expect to cheat on me.

“Pity you didn’t spill your coffee,” he says. For a wild moment, I wonder if he read my mind. Then he continues, “I could’ve offered to get you a new one.”

I let out a breath I didn’t realise I was holding. He’s confident, like I expect. Younger me would’ve stuttered. But now, I’m only a little fazed.

This is quality. Time to carpe diem.

I size him up and then turn back to our coffee guy. “One ristretto for this gentleman, please.”

Mr. Right Now’s face splits into a grin.